


That first night of many

by TaleNeverTold



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-07 23:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12852234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleNeverTold/pseuds/TaleNeverTold
Summary: - Je t’aime, ma femme!- I love you too!... And what came after





	1. Why one would need a bed?

**Author's Note:**

> With all due respect to the creators of the show and fans who long waited for the Turtle Soup Scene, I think the editing (or the screenplay) for that part was absolutely idiotic. After wedding vows between two rather important characters I was expecting at least something! Even minimal indication of their wedding night, of the 'cock' and 'bedding each other' that was discussed SO MUCH before and during the wedding itself.  
> Instead I got The Couple having The Sex. And while it was very hot, granted... I still felt cheated out of other hot sex scene. I mean, if they were to follow the original timeline, there wouldn't be a need to even cut it like this! Why even?!
> 
> Fergus and Marsali were supposed to have had their own time, their own epic night. I can't say I have written it epic (God knows, I haven't been writing in ages and I'm not sure I was ever writing proper epic sex before) but I did my best.

* * *

 

\- There’s a bed…

Marsali’s voice sounded startled and confused and Fergus focused on her to understand what was the confusion about. She knew they weren’t coming to either one of their previous cabins as they were given their own ‘honeymoon suite’ – captain’s orders. Yet she wasn’t confused by the new cabin itself – just by the bed.

Slight tilt of the deck brought the understanding about – right, they were on the ship, first ship in Marsali’s life, and with very little experience she’s had, his new wife simply didn’t know about that particular detail – that there would be cabins with proper beds. But then again – was she expecting to spend their wedding night on bunk beds?

Fergus swallowed loudly… the wedding night. One would think he was a virgin with all the nerves he’d worked up by now while Marsali giggled with joy and jumped onto the bed and bounced on it a bit. She was… strong-headed, brave, bold even… but sometimes such a child still! Fergus was fighting his inner recoil… because he was about to bed this naïve, sweet, innocent girl… his wife.

‘Oh mon Dieu, what am I doing? I shouldn’t have rushed it! I should’ve given her time till Jamaica… or longer… even if it would’ve killed me!’

His cock twitched uncomfortably in his trousers hinting unequivocally that ‘yes, it WOULD HAVE killed you! it’s been months! and she’s there! just look at her!’

And as Fergus did look at his Marsali, she looked back at him. And her giddiness immediately was washed over with the new wave of something heavy and dizzying – something she didn’t know but needed already. His eyes were firmly fixed on hers – yet it felt like his gaze was caressing her all over, so much that Marsali shivered under his invisible touch. It felt like she wanted more… but did she?

Fergus was frozen to the floor trying to figure out his next move. This was all so new to him, and so much was riding on the success of tonight that he has felt his stomach churn in fear… or maybe it was the turtle soup… or lack thereof because Willoughby’s turtle soup was almost pure sherry… and maybe he has had just a little too much of it.

Marsali did too. First Fergus thought it’ll be a good idea to get her a bit tipsy so it would help with the nerves – but the same way it wasn’t helping him now, by the looks of it was helping Marsali even less – she looked utterly disoriented and pale, sitting in the middle of the bed with her skirts up her mid-thighs, and her thighs… Keep it together, Fergus!

As if hearing his thoughts, Marsali grabbed her skirts and halted midair – her thoughts running wild ‘Which way, up or down? How? Where?...’

\- Umm… Fergus…

He exhaled so forcefully as if he was holding his breath since they’d came in (or maybe he was):

\- Oui, cherie? Anything!

\- Where do I… how do we… the dress?

And that was the first time the newlyweds smiled. Genuinely smiled together. It suddenly felt so silly – them being five steps apart and not being able to move towards each other while they’d spent months trying to be together.

Fergus flung himself to the bed, ripping his neck scarf from choking him, kicking off his boots – and was met with Marsali’s waiting hands as she’d unfastened hooks and buttons until he was kneeling before her in just his shirt and very tight pants – and getting tighter by the minute.

Ignoring all that Fergus leaned in to place chaste, soft kiss on his wife’s lips. Something simple, something that wouldn’t scare her with the force of passion he was merely holding back. But that didn’t satisfy his feisty little women at all so she’d buried her hands in his long curls and pulled him in for a proper kiss – that with a whimpering little sounds she’d breathed into his mouth while swirling her tongue in battle with his. That did it – Fergus lost all control and tumbled over Marsali dropping them both against the headboard. Marsali would’ve hit her head hard but Fergus held her closer to him and broke the fall with his bad hand against the board. Wooden glove made a dull thud on the impact and recoiled back sending pain up his arm, making Fergus wince a little.

\- Take it off, - Marsali offered (‘Or was it an order?’), - it hurts you, you don’t need it in bed.

Fergus looked away. It felt wrong – to bring this ugly side of himself to their wedding bed. She knew how his stump looked, she helped him tend to it… still, he planned to keep the glove on for tonight, just to pretend it was just a hand he wasn’t using much, that he was still a whole of a man. Not a cripple.

Marsali’s soft fingers brushed his cheek, turning him to face her. Her eyes, they were so beautiful, so deep and peaceful and full of love… was he even worthy of it?

\- This is not what makes you a man, Fergus, - she took her hands off his face and started unfastening little belts that kept the glove attached to his stump, all while not breaking eye contact with him, not letting him to look away, - you risked your life to save my Daddy, you were more of a man even as a boy than most adult ones I know. You saved him, and he came back and found me and Joan, and gave us home.

Marsali pressed his stump to her chest and hugged it tight with both hands. She pressed small kisses all over it, fighting his attempts to yank it away – to her his injury wasn’t ‘an impediment’ or ugliness, it was his strength and valor. Her French husband with a heart of a Scottish highlander.

\- You are brave and strong and gentle – and exactly the man I hoped for… even if I wasn’t sure men like you even existed. And yet, - her smile shone on him, like sun after heavy rain, welcoming and pardoning and promising so much new, - and yet here you are. Real. And mine. Mon homme. Mon mari.

They were both so motionless in that moment that he could almost see his reflection in her tear-filled eyes. Eyes of a woman in love are the best mirrors. Because… right now… he was that what she saw in him. Not a castaway, not a cripple, not an used toy… He was her man. Her husband.

\- Je t’aime, ma femme! Ma vie, mon âme, mon tout… Je t’aime!

And he devoured her! If he could, Fergus would breathe her in and never breathe out, because she was running through his body like a life force he couldn’t survive without!

He held her close to him, crushing into Marsali with his body, his mouth and his need. Fergus pulled her sun-touched hair back to expose her white neck, almost translucent skin of her upper chest which he covered with kisses and bites. She might’ve gasped few times, he might’ve hurt her – but she’d never stopped him, just pulled him in closer, digging her nails into his bare back, longing to be marked by him in all the best ways! (‘When did I lose my shirt? Was I wearing one? What’s even ‘a shirt’?’)

Fergus hugged Marsali tighter to his chest and pulled her up to lean against cushions. Now that he wasn’t supporting her weight anymore, he put his good hand to a very good use – to untie her laces and undo her ties. His wife was no help there – her own hands were busy clawing his body, trying to touch more of him – all the while traveling down his chest to where his cock twitched painfully trapped in the only piece of clothing he still had on. There was no way for Marsali to take the trousers off – all with Fergus practically straddling her tights – so his enthusiastic wife settled for torturing him by her occasional grazes and tugs over the harsh fabric of his trousers. ‘Why wouldn’t they disappear too?!’

And then there came a moment when Marsali has wiggled her way out of her garments… and somehow managed to lose her shift in the process. That!.. Fergus wasn’t ready for.


	2. What's up with that belt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few more things you need to know about this story:  
> \- Even though it's presented as a chapter story, it's actually a one-shot. For reasons of my own I had to break it down like this, but after chapter 9 or 10 (depends on my pacing) it would be complete.  
> \- For the life of me, I wouldn't be able to write Marsali's speech with that specific Scottish flavor to it, just don't know how. Sorry!  
> \- Fergus will be using French because this would become relevant in the end of the story, so I didn't want him to randomly turn on 'the French' having not spoken it from the beginning.

It wasn’t what he thought it would be like. Oh, he has thought of this moment so many times! Over these last few weeks since Milord gave them his blessing… over these past few months since Marsali agreed to marry him… ever since he saw her! He dreamed often how he would undress her – slowly, piece by piece, uncovering her body like a present… feeling it, tasting it, savoring it…

And here she was… bare… one touch away from him.

Being knocked out cold would’ve been the closest second in comparison… except Fergus wasn’t out, he was very much in and on! His vision filled with sparkly circles, and for a moment there Fergus thought that maybe his wife was just a vision his overheated mind has conjured… But she felt so real, heat emanating from her glowing skin was so hot, smell of her lavender soap mixed with something salty was so teasing… if it was a vision, it would’ve been a torture to come to mind. But she was real!

Fergus raised his hand to gently trace blue vein that curved around her collarbone. Shiver passed through Marsali’s body along with some shadow of fear constricting her face features. That… he was expecting. With what little Fergus knew of Marsali’s mother, his wife was raised to expect very little of men and nothing kind at that. Fergus swore to Marsali to show her a different kind of husband when they were handfasted… but nodding along is one thing and really believing in one’s heart is very much another.

\- Marsali… Do you trust me?

His voice was soft, pleading – yet she responded with raising her chin in challenge:

\- We’re not trading cows! What does it have to…

He broke her off with a kiss, trying not to pay attention to how his body reacted when her nipples grazed his bare chest.

\- Marsali, mon coeur, please, trust me to love you. Trust me to bring you pleasure.

She pushed back, her stubbornness making its way through the haze of confused thoughts and tingling sensations that his touch has brought her. Marsali shivered again, this time not out of fear and definitely not out of cold – she was burning up all right!

\- You can’t promise me that, I know it’s going to hurt! So, let’s be done with it and all!

Marsali was tough and brave – but she was still a virgin. And her fear and preconceived notion of men turned into angry resolve – Marsali yanked the belt on her soon-to-be lover determined to get him as naked as she was and see where this would lead. Touching her husband’s body felt nice so Marsali fervently hoped that the rest wouldn’t be so bad and she’d be able to bare it. ‘It’ll get better’, Fergus promised her. ‘It can bring joy’, Daddy’s English wife chimed with a smile… And yet… ‘Man will rip through like if you are a battle field, spearing nothing, answering no pleas for mercy’ – that was her mother’s most memorable words. And Mama was married to Daddy, and nothing has changed… So maybe that English wife just taunted her into submission? But… but… Fergus wouldn’t lie to her to get his, right? Right?!

Trying to suppress her sobbing, Marsali yanked her husband’s belt again – it just wouldn’t budge! She met his storm-colored eyes and yanked the belt again, silently asking him to help out with HIS trousers! But Fergus covered her hands with his and softly pushed them away:

\- That would come later…

Marsali rebelled again:

\- Than what am I freezing my ass for? Could’ve told me your tide is not up yet!

Fergus bit his lip not to smile at this fierce demonstration from his little naked wife but failed miserably making her pout at him even more. She tried getting off the bed towards where her clothing was scattered on the floor, but Fergus blocked her escape with his body making Marsali bump into him again. Fergus sucked air through clenched teeth trying to regain what little self-control he had, tangled his hand into golden flurry of her hair and stilled her with one very deep and very promising kiss. He kissed her long and hard and with everything he’s got – until he felt Marcali’s body shaking as her knees gave way from underneath her. He pulled back to respond:

\- Oh, cherie, the tide is up since the moment I saw you, that’s not what we’re waiting for! We’re…

She bit his chin, his cheekbone, making her way to his earlobe – and making him lose his train of thoughts. Her hands traveled along his spine, downwards, until his naïve, innocent, unexperienced virgin of a wife grabbed his butt and pressed his ‘tide’ right into coveted dreamland shores of her thighs.

Fergus pressed into her body convulsively and no force in the world could’ve parted them now. His only prayer right now was not to come then and there and ruin all his well thought out plan for their wedding night. But – oh! The rush of pleasure felt sooo goooood! Not having to pull away, not having to deny himself this heaven… but there was still this one promise he had to keep. To Marsali.

\- Mon femme, you’re making it very hard for me to…

\- Good, then we’re on the right path, I suppose… - Marsali’s eyes were heavy with desire and her smile was light with mischief. Seems like his wife was adamant to throw all his efforts to the wind!

Fergus sighted. There was one thing left to do. Sheer force.


	3. What does it have to do with the trust?

Tall man bent a bit and grabbed her knee. Before his petite wife could figure out his plan, he pulled her knee towards him and pushed her slightly at the same time. Marsali suddenly found herself lying on her back with Fergus on top her, his smile victorious, his curls bouncing about his face. She loved his curls so much! How soft and unruly they were, how her fingers got stuck in them here and then when she’d try to brush through his mane, how Fergus would close his eyes in content and purr softly when her nails scraped his head ever so lightly. No surprises, her husband’s hair fit him perfectly – just as gentle and wild and beautiful as him.

Marsali raised her hands letting her fingers get lost again, tugging him closer for a kiss. Fergus leaned in, supporting his weight on bent elbows, holding himself low enough that their tiny movements created noticeable friction to Marsali’s body.

One kiss or two kisses or three – there was no telling them apart, they’d blended in one fervent touch accompanied by heavy breathing and gradually more audible moans from both newlyweds. Fergus felt his wife moving underneath him, responding to her primal instincts she may not knew she had. He felt it was the time to tear away from her face (she protested though) and to move down to her breasts that was prickling him for a while with sharp-hardened nipples. He tasted one – yes, it wasn’t like he’d imagined in his heat-induced dreams. It was better! The delectable taste of Marsali’s skin, the sound she made when Fergus circled her nipple with a wide stroke of his tongue and bit on it, the way she arched into his touch when his thumb pressed into her inner thigh… Not away from him – into him!

Marsali wasn’t even registering what was going on anymore. She felt like she was floating over her own body, cocooned in heat, with sparkles of fire breaking out from inside her… it felt so tight, so tense, so high… yet she still wanted higher, she somehow knew that there’s something higher…

Her drunken haze was almost broken when Marsali felt her husband move lower still and touch her where… where Marsali barely touched herself – save for washing. She bolted upright grabbing fistful of his hair, willing him to come up from that… that place.

Fergus complied and kissed his way up her body, paying special attention to her soft belly, her oversensitive breasts… his curls tickled her blazing body, his kisses ignited her further, his teeth marked her to be his. And she was content to keep burning, as long as he didn’t go… there.

\- Marsali… - his face stilled over her, his body pressing her down, into him, - I love you. Do you trust me?

She gulped. Moment of truth. He promised her pleasure – this, right now, was more pleasure she thought possible in life. Was it the time for the pain then? All right then…

\- Yes… - her answer was no more than a whisper, but it wasn’t fear – she was just very much out of breath. Marsali had let go of fear, replaced it with hope that after the pain part is over they can come back to this burning up part. This one she liked. A lot.

Fergus kissed her again and went back to where his head buried between her thighs. Marsali had a rare thought that it wasn’t how local men did ‘it’ – but then again, her husband was French, you just never knew with these outlanders…

His mouth moved about her inner thigh, not in any pattern, as if he was trying to taste every part to choose one for something later. He sucked and scratched her with his stubble and smoothed the scratches over with his tongue – and repeated it over again. The pattern Marsali hadn’t notice in her inexperienced and high state of mind was that with every circle Fergus was getting closer to where her legs connected, where her femininity had swollen with anticipation and need.

And then he’d reached it. The apex. The inner sanctum of any woman’s body… but this wasn’t any woman – it was his Marsali. And she’d felt it good!

As he lapped and sucked on her tender flesh, Marsali’s body was coming undone fast. She tried bracing for upcoming pain but her experiences were anything but. Marsali felt like a pile of smoldering coal – with every breath, with every stroke that touched her, she was getting closer to some kind of fire that threatened to consume her if it ever erupted. ‘That what would be the pain, - she thought to herself, - when I explode and break at the seams!’.

And she would welcome it. Anything – just to get over this wiggling, screaming, clawing… this burning.

It came with numbness first. Her body froze and only her muscles were pulled inside, like some spindle was winding it tight, tight, tight – till it broke and released all of her, all of her fears and reservations, all she ever was or could’ve been before tonight. Numbness was gone too – her body sprang to action beyond her control, twisting and turning, trying to catch on to the residing spasms that wrecked her body. And then came the black wave…


	4. Who would hear?

When her hearing and vision came back (never mind the white spots), Marsali became absentmindedly aware of her husband lying next to her, tracing his fingers along the lines of her body. He said something to her, but it was a whole lot of French and she didn’t get the most of it except for ‘so beautiful’ and ‘my heart’ – she knew these because he called her this before. She turned her face to nudge Fergus’s bare chest with her nose:

\- Hey… - she looked up on him and her breath caught short from the look of adoration and almost religious reverence in his eyes. Not sure what to make of it, Marsali continued, - so it didn’t hurt.

Fergus chuckled:

\- It wasn’t supposed to. It’s not the part that hurts, cherie.

Under any other circumstances Marsali would’ve lunged into full offence at this comment but now she was too relaxed and too content to lay by him peacefully that she just quipped lazily:

\- Really? Which does?

Fergus scooted lower so their faces would align. His voice was softer, serious:

\- Marsali, there’s a part of you inside… where I’d just been… it will tear when I’ll enter you.

He hurried to supplement it:

\- But only for a while, and it will never hurt again. I promise.

Marsali’s interest piqued and she asked shyly, drawing circles on his chest and being seemingly very focused on her patterns to avoid looking directly at him:

\- Um… didn’t you… you know… enter me just now?

Fergus’s nostrils flared as he was breathing heavily, trying to steady himself. Those circles she did, crossing his nipples with her nail ever so often, did so many things to him! If only she knew what kind of appeal her body has to his!

Marsali caught a patch of his chest hair and tugged it, letting it slip between her nails as she trailed them down his stomach. Fergus growled:

\- Stop it! Please?

She finally raised her eyes, so pure, so innocently seductive. Marsali licked her lips and that’s all Fergus could look at while she spoke:

\- Why? Don't you like it?

Fergus closed his eyes shut trying to focus on answering her anything she wanted to know about what was happening between them. But as if he could shut off the feeling of her naked body pressed into his side… the taste of her desire, still salty in his mouth… the echo of Marsali screaming his name when she broke under his kisses… He did that. That memory run through his body like a buzz from expensive cognac, not letting him to cool down no matter how much he tried.

Yet he tried. For her.

\- Marsali, love. I lose my mind every time you touch me but if you continue this way I will lose myself altogether and we may not get to that part where I actually bed you.

She nudged him not so gentle prompting Fergus to open his eyes to her questioning gaze:

\- Shouldn’t we have started with that part? What if we will get into shipwreck or get separated like daddy and his English wife – and you still haven’t bedded me! Fergus Claudel Fraser, you’d better explain yourself to me!

If she’d been standing, Fergus was sure she’d have her arms on her hips and tapping her foot at him right now. As she was laying, Marsali managed to convey the same level of urgency and mock outrage with just her raised chin. He couldn’t resist the temptation and bended to bite her chin quickly before answering:

\- Mon femme, we’re anchored at the bay so there’s a little chance of shipwreck right now. As for another kind of dangers that may separate us right now, - he shrugged at the prospect, - I don’t think that anyone who’d see you right now would doubt I bedded you. You have this… glow about you.

Fergus finished with such a smug smile that Marsali thought of nothing else to erase it but to kiss him. She raised on her elbows and consumed his lips in a long hungry kiss that left her not-so-smug-now husband a little dizzy.

\- Why did you do it then? I mean, why haven’t you started with… legal part?

\- Legal?! – Fergus chocked on his cough, trying to process her wording, - Marsali, there’s nothing official about that part either. It’s just that part leads to bairns so the church recognizes that part alone.

Fergus made his best attempt to mimic Father Fogden as he declared:

\- Surely, one must bed one’s wife to have the ‘wed’ properly ‘locked’. It can’t be done without it, it’s not allowed… Marsali… Marsali… Lovely…

Marsali laughed and somehow it sounded so loud in their small cabin that she got embarrassed immediately and hid her face at Fergus’s chest. His kissed her temple and said:

\- Don’t worry. The worst thing people can think is that you are happy in bed with me.

Marsali’s voice came muffled from under his armpit:

\- That wasn’t too loud, was it?

Fergus decided it would be wise not to tell her how loud she was some minutes ago because people definitely have heard THAT! Fergus leaned back to look at her red face and said as seriously as he could master:

\- Reine, I don’t mind people knowing you’re happy with me. Do you?

Marsali smiled and kissed his collarbone:

\- No, I suppose I don’t. It’s just that… will they all know what we did today?

Fergus added just as seriously:

\- Yes, they will. Not in details, but they all know what happens in the bed between man and wife. At least, most of them do.

Marsali looked confused. She couldn’t believe something like that has ever happened to her mother and she still hated it. Why? Unless…

\- Does it… do all men do it like you do?

There was something about the last part of that question… the way her lips parted with soft exhale… how Marsali pressed her warm body into his… how her eyes rolled back a little… Fergus knew that his ‘way’ pleased his wife immensely. This was a new feeling to him – being proud of what he could give to a woman he loved. He may be a man enough for her after all.

\- I can’t say how all man do it, Marsali. But no, I don’t think most of them know this… way.

Marsali wanted to ask where he’d learned but then thought better of it. It didn’t matter. Her husband was born and raised in a brothel, he was a handsome young man popular with girls… any one of those could have taught him. And it wasn’t that Marsali didn’t accept his past – she did, as she’d told Daddy. But it was that she’d never wanted to know the details. To know that there was another woman, with a French name and full breasts, who has had a touch of his body. The only upside was that Marsali thought herself to be the smartest of them all – because she didn’t let Fergus to slip through her fingers as others did. For Marsali Fergus stayed and even fought with his father to be with her. He was hers now. All the others were just shadows.

Fergus watched his beautiful wife intently as she was working something out in her mind. Emotions came and changed like in kaleidoscope and Fergus dreaded on which emotion she’d settle. Jealousy? Resentment? Disgust?

Marsali settled at ‘content’ as she shrugged and smiled at Fergus. And just like that his past stayed in the past.


	5. Why again t=with 'the legal'?

Fergus was about to marvel at this new freedom his wife gave him when she’d brought the conversation back to the matter:

\- So, why’d you do it? Why did you start with this and not the… ‘legal’ part.

Fergus looked at her for the longest time. Trying to memorize how his wife looked at this special moment, still a virgin for the rest of the world yet very much a woman for him. He’d made her this. He gave her pleasure only women knew without taking anything in return. Yet. And Fergus really wanted to congratulate himself on his self-restrain… but if being really honest, the only thing holding him back was a total lack of self-restrain – he knew that once he’s anywhere near that soft wet patch of hair at the apex of her thighs, he won’t be able to stop from surging into her, like a wild horse on a charge. The only thing protecting her virginity was not his will but his belt. And that wouldn’t help much longer with this line of questioning…

\- Marsali… Ma vie, I wanted YOU to know that there is a pleasure in this for you as well. I wanted you to know this BEFORE any pain came your way. I wanted this, - Fergus touched her breasts lightly eliciting a soft moan and a shiver of desire, - to be your first memory of our wedding night. Not my hunger to take you but my desire to give something to you. Because… Marsali, I have to be honest…

Fergus lower his head seeking wife’s gaze. He looked almost… guilty?

\- I have it. This blinding need, this hunger for your body – I have it too. And I promise I’ll try to make it good for you, I will.

Fergus moaned as Marsali brought her mouth to his nipple and sucked gently, then less gently, and then she’d bit him. Not in the position to reach for his other nipple, she supplemented with her fingers and nails. Fergus started forgetting words he needed for his… confession? explanation? warning?

\- Marsali, please… what you’re doing to me… ugh… I’m…

\- Just what you did to me, mari. It works both ways, right?

\- Rrrrright! – Fergus growled and rolled over on top of Marsali pinning her down with his body. – Marsali, please. If you go on like this, it’ll be over before it starts. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this. How I would lose it when I’d smell lavender – just because it reminded me of you and your perfect, soft, tender skin. How I would wake up with my cock in my hand just because I was dreaming of you.

All while he spoke, Fergus showered his wife with kisses – sometimes quick and soft, sometimes deep and almost angry. He melted into her, scathing her body with his heat, igniting her all over again, inviting her for another sensual dance… But this time Marsali knew enough to dance her part too. She didn’t want to push it too far because he asked her not to – but she was far from passive. His hunger woke her own memories of all the time she had been denied him because it wasn’t proper, because it would break his promise, because she ‘deserved better’. Marsali did her waiting, she did her proper courting and a wedding – she had a right to him now. She was claiming it.

And there was no stopping him. This time belt gave way immediately and his trousers hit the floor instantly, freeing his overeager cock. Marsali felt it at her inner thigh and was expecting him to get in right away, but Fergus kept out. He kissed his wife feverishly, trying to reach her everywhere at once, imprint himself on her, turn her pale soft skin rouge with his passion and heat… mere moments passed and Marsali was engulfed in these familiar flames again. She raised to meet his touch, she tugged his hair to bring his kisses to where she needed them, she bent her knees and pushed her hips up so his cock would slide just atop of her wet entrance. Marsali didn’t know at the time but it was all the invitation Fergus needed – and with one more devouring kiss he was balls deep in his wife. Tide came to shore.


	6. What do you do when you know how?

His kiss muffled her scream but he’d heard it. Felt it to. Her hands dropped from hugging him to trying to push him away. And the worst of it – Marsali cried.

Fergus didn’t know what to do. One would think he’d be an expert in all thing women, having been raised in a brothel and all, but the truth was that he has never been with a virgin before. Never wanted this kind of responsibility before. Never fell in love before.

And now it all came together at once. His wife, the love of his life, his most sacred responsibility… his Marsali was crying underneath him because he has hurt her.

His body failed her. He hoped his soul won’t:

\- Marsali, my beautiful, brave, amazing woman… Please, please… Shhh, shhh… it’ll pass, give it time, give it just a little more time… Shhh, shhh… I love you, Marsali, I love you so much!

He kissed her tears away and that salt burned his throat like acid… he kissed away her whimpers and whines… he didn’t even try to stop her from clawing his chest knowing fully well he’ll have bloody marks the next day. He just kept whispering and kissing her, praying to God he’d give her pain to him somehow.

First, Marsali stopped digging her nails into Fergus and even tried to soothe the pain by rubbing over the semi-circles she’d left in her rage. Then she responded to his kisses and even brought up one hand to tug him closer. And then… she raised her hips a bit making him move a little inside her.

\- Marsali, you don’t have to. I can… I can stop.

She kissed him tenderly, knowingly.

\- But do you want to?

His answer came out as a cry:

\- No, God, no!

\- Then move, mari, move.

He didn't, though. Fergus kept kissing Marsali till she moved again… and again… and till she buckled up with force that commanded action.

Action he knew! That was a part he was trained at both for his benefit… and not. But this time… this time he didn’t go down the dark road of those memories. This time unity with his woman brought about only the muscle memory from his past, a technic how to please his Marsali who trusted him to be there for her.

Deeper thrusts so that her whole body moved under his force… shallow thrusts so that her hips would raise up to consume him again to fill the void… quick thrusts so Marsali would fall short of breath… slow thrusts so that his cock would drag down just under the right angle and hit that sweet spot… action he knew!

What Fergus didn’t know is that he would lose his mind when he sees Marsali unraveling under him. That all his technic would fly out of his head replaced by primal need of possession. And he would just run. Run into her to hide all his time of longing and wet dreams, run into her to find a peace with what he knew and why he knew it – just as long as it served her body. Just keep running into her, dropping his head to her net of golden hair, biting his lips till they bled, screaming her name into pillows – and running, running, running. Until her inner walls halted him still, trapped him in excruciating pleasure of her climax… and he stopped running. He was home.


	7. What are the wives for?

Breathing felt different now. It felt like more. Like a wind coming back to fill the sails after a long stall. Life-long stall, it seemed. But it didn’t matter now, because wind has come back. For both of them.

Fergus got up first from this blissful haze – he didn’t want to but he had to. He retrieved some cloth and a bucket of water and cleaned himself the best he could. Then Fergus turned to the bed with few more clean pieces of fabric fully intent to do the same for Marsali – only she shied away immediately, knocking her knees together and trying to cover herself with a sheet.

Fergus smiled tenderly:

\- Mon femme, you do remember that I’ve touched you in more than one way all over your body. You don’t have to shy away now.

Marsali’s made a face and some emotion between disgust and guilt crossed her features:

\- It’s not shy… It’s just… I don’t want you to see me like that. I think it’s a mess down there. Maybe…

Marsali lit up on a thought:

\- Maybe, you can go out for a bit so I can clean myself and change the sheets?

Fergus shook his head in disagreement:

\- Marsali, I’m not going anywhere. Whatever mess you think is there, it can’t be worse than this, - Fergus raised his bad hand to make a point, - and also, it’s not your mess, I made it, I’ll help clean it. We can change sheets afterwards.

Marsali bit her lip and looked around as if searching for something. Probably, not having found it, Marsali nodded in defeat and let go of the sheet she was holding in front of her life a shield. White cotton dropped to her waist revealing her round breasts with soft pink afterglow of her lover’s touch. His breath hitched at seeing this and well-known warmth crept its way down his belly. Fergus had to remind himself that his blushing bride is newly a woman and won’t be up for continuing this play for some time yet.

But soulful considerations rarely worked on his cock so young man hurried to go sit on the bed before his hunger became visible again. Fergus didn’t want Marsali to feel obliged to let him in just because he wanted to. So badly! But… feeling entitled to woman’s body is the straightest way to lose her love. And, as overheated as he was, Fergus still wanted Marsali’s love and happiness more than her body. That was his constant.

 

Marsali took one cloth to clean her neck and chest, while Fergus cleaned her midriff and her thighs in a most gentle way he could manage. Marsali’s skin rippled in goose bumps from his touch but that was not out of pain (she said so, at least) but out cold – water in the bucket was cold and Fergus was not planning going down to the kitchen to fetch some warm water instead.

Marsali teased him:

\- Why? Afraid of the questioning cook is going to give you?

Fergus was not in such a playful mood on the matter:

\- Afraid to leave you here alone with so many drunk men about the boat. They may be drunk because of OUR wedding but it will not stop some of them to barge in here to… share the bride.

Marsali recoiled as from a blow:

\- They would do that? To a bride? On her wedding night?

Fergus nodded, disgust and anger written all over his face:

\- Most of the crew haven’t touched a woman in months, let alone few bastards who got lucky in ports. And the only two women on board are of captain’s family. So, they won’t try anything when sober… but I wouldn’t leave you out of my sights when they are so wasted. 

Marsali smiled:

\- Then don’t. Come here, - and she’d raised her chin asking for a kiss. Her fingers were cold and dump when she’d touched his face, but he didn’t care. He threw his cloth to the bucket on the floor and set by Marsali. She didn’t seem to mind either when his cold hands circled her waist to bring them closer together. Somewhere between the kisses, though, Fergus managed to say:

\- The sheets. We should soak the sheets.

Marsali nodded and rose from the bed. It stung a little somewhere deep inside of her, but not too bad, very bearable. There was also this heaviness to her body, as if she’d just had a hot meal and a hot bath at the same time – very weird feeling but very pleasant one. She like it.

They’d collected the sheets from the bed and while Marsali made the bed with the new ones, Fergus soaked the old ones in the bucket making sure all the bloody smudges were in the cold water. Marsali followed his actions with surprise:

\- You seem to know quite a lot on how to handle these situations.

\- What? Bloody stains?

\- Virgins.

Fergus dropped a bucket and water splashed all over the floor and his bare feet. His face became red and his expression hunted, he was trying to think of something to say but before he did Marsali added:

\- It’s all right, Fergus… Maybe it’s good you knew what you were doing from before, maybe I’m better off for it.

Her voice was very even, almost too even. Distant. She sat at the bed and locked her fingers around her bent legs. Marsali was rocking back and forth a little, her gaze became unfocused as if she went back into her mind to consider something. When she came back, Marsali looked at Fergus who was still standing in the pool of cold water, frozen in anticipation, and said:

\- I don’t care that I’m not the first one. I only care that I’m the only one now.

Fergus flung himself to kneel before his wife, catching her fingers in his hand, kissing her white knuckles until she’d loosened the lock and let him to intertwine his fingers with hers. Marsali looked at him, so serene and beautiful and amazing and so absolute for him…

\- Marsali, mon coeur, you ARE the only one! Since the time of our courtship, you are the only woman I ever want to lie with, to be with! You are my everything!

Marsali looked very please as she kissed his fingers in return:

\- Good! Remember that because you may not like me when I’m mad!

Her husband nodded in all the seriousness to her very believable threat:

\- Oh, I know, cherie, you are a fierce little fairy, I’ll be sure to stay in your good grace!

He kissed her smiling lips, letting his happiness and desire flow and mix with hers. By the time they parted, both were breathing heavily and their eyes went darker a shade. But Fergus had to remind himself of her fragile state so he retreated to a more neutral ground of conversation:

\- And also… you are my first virgin. I’ve never… It’s just…

He sighted, reluctant to revisit that part of his life, but at the same time he felt like he needed to tell her this. Marsali was his wife. She had a right to all of his life, not just the presentable parts.

\- When I lived in Madame Elise’s house, I would help around in the kitchen sometimes. Sometimes it was the only way to get some food… Sometimes she would have a new girl… a virgin sold to the highest bidder for the privilege of the ‘first night’… later they would send me to bring hot water upstairs… and bring the bloody linens downstairs for washing… back then I had two hands, so I’d do the washing too… if I managed to get rid of the stains completely, Madame Elise would reward me with extra meal.

Fergus smiled a very sad smile, getting down that particular memory lane. Things he’d seen in that house… things he’d gone through himself… What would’ve become of him if it wasn’t for Milord? Would he even live long enough to maybe someday meet Marsali? But then again, what’s the difference if he would never have been good enough anyways…

Marsali hugged him and brought his head to rest on her shoulder. She felt droplets of tears running down her breasts as Fergus hugged her closer, trying to hide his sorrows in a crook of her neck. Marsali threaded her fingers through his hair, soothing him:

\- Shh, love, shh… You will never have to back again. This life won’t ever find you, I won’t let it. You are mine now and only mine. I’ll protect you.

She was tiny, his woman. And light, and really not that strong… But then again, physical protection of her body is not what he needed. He needed comfort of her body, respect of her body, willingness and joy to be with him. And that she could give him. Already did.

Marsali spoke:

\- I’m sorry I asked of it. I don’t want you to hurt for my curiosity. I won’t do it again.

Fergus raised his head, his eyes were so bright now…

\- No, ask. I needed to tell you this. We will share a bed now and one night you may wake up from my nightmares. So, I want you to know that you are not to blame for them. They came before you and still come back to haunt me sometimes. And I’m sorry if it’ll bother your sleep.

Marsali kissed him on the nose and then on both cheeks, erasing all the traces of tears.

\- Then I will hold you, and sing to you, and send all your troubles away. That’s what the wives are for!

Fergus crooked his eyebrow and smiled sarcastically:

\- Oh really! Not to cook my dinner and clean my shoes?

Marsali looked pensive for a bit and then nodded:

\- I’ll consider doing those things as well, but only if you’d be a very good husband.

\- And how does one go about being a good husband? Any suggestion?

Marsali brought his hand to lay on her breast and then pulled him in for a long and very opening kiss…

\- I’m sure, you’re natural…

And for a while they weren’t talking much… verbally. Just with their tangled bodies, kissing noises, moans and occasional ‘Oh, God, yes, more!’.

Natural.


	8. What's with the kids though?

The rocking of the ship was peaceful and on any other night it would’ve lulled them to sleep. Weird though, they were tired but not sleepy at all. Good kind of weird.

Marsali was tucked under Fergus’s arm and even though all that arm could do is to hold her closer to him, that was just what was needed.

Marsali crawled her fingers through his chest hair, marveling on how little of it he’d had. She liked it this way, left more of him open for her to kiss. Which she did – just to look how his skin turned dark-pink under her suction and by the tensing of his hold Marsali knew she’d got her lover’s attention. She tested one more reaction by flicking his nipple with her nail to which he immediately reacted:

\- Don’t!, - but then added softer - Please.

\- Why, mari, too tired already?

Fergus shifted so he could catch a glimpse of her smiling face – she was mocking him! That little playful minx was making fun of him!

\- Au contraire, wife! I don’t think I can ever get tired of you! I asked you to stop because that last thing you did with your nails hurt.

\- You didn’t mind it before…

Marsali was genuinely confused because she was sure she did it exactly like the last time but with very different reaction. She sat on the bad, leaning over Fergus’s bend knee, and asked him:

\- Did it hurt before? Why didn’t you tell me so?!

Fergus caught her hand and placed her palm over his heart, making sure she wasn’t pushing too hard. Then he moved her hand down very slowly until it covered his nipple. Marsali could feel his skin warmed up under her touch so she wasn’t surprised to see a faint heat print of her palm when he took her arm away. What else she could see were the scratches she’d dug into him before, thin red lines across his chest, one of them crossing his nipple. Understanding came with a pang of guilt:

\- I hurt you! I’m so sorry!

Marsali bent over to kiss away the pain but Fergus has caught her chin and made her look up at him:

\- I hurt you too. And I'm so sorry!

Marsali shrugged it off:

\- That had to happen and I think we did pretty well! But this, - she pointed as his chest, - would hurt like hell tomorrow… Oh, I know!

Marsali too off the bed to the table next to the door and shuffled through drawers. She came back with a little jar which she presented to surprised Fergus with victorious smile:

\- English wife said she’d leave something in our cabin for me to apply to my… tender parts… so it would be easier tomorrow. I think it’s some remedy from pain. We can use it on you too.

Fergus took the jar and smelled it. Smelled good, like herbs. He faintly remembered it being applied to him when he was little and… Well, it helped then, that’s the important part.

\- I think you should use all of it for yourself. I’ll live.

Marsali was adamant:

\- And I think there’s enough for both of us. Or I can ask English wife if she has more of it.

Fergus decided to change the subject. He placed a jar on a table next to the bed and said:

\- I noticed you’d stopped calling her a… well, you know. Found her peace with her or is it just for my sake?

Before Marsali could answer he continued:

\- Marsali, I am grateful either way. But I’m asking you to try to be nicer to Milady. She’s the closest thing I have to a mother, and now that she’d back Milord is alive again and that simply is a miracle. She’s really nice when you get to know her, reminds me a bit of you…

Marsali snorted:

\- I’m my own woman, thank you very much! But… well, we talked, she’s not that bad after all. She told me to…

Marsali swallowed her last words and the look she gave Fergus was almost haunted. He sat in the bed and hugged her with both arms to hide what whatever was scaring her right now:

\- Mon couer, what is it? What did Milady tell you? Are you ill? What’s happening?

Marsali hid her face at her husband’s chest trying to decide what to do… She could tell his she asked English wife about making love – and that would be true. She could say it was about the pain remedy – the proof was standing right there, on a table. She could say so many things and Fergus would believe her. Because he trusted her. Trusted her to know his deepest secrets and his wildest dreams. So instead of telling one of many possible lies, Marsali whispered the truth:

\- I asked her for something… so I would not get a bairn after tonight.

She felt the moment when he’d stopped breathing. The moment his hand stopped rubbing her back in soothing motion. Even ship stopped moving for a bit and when it started rocking again, Marsali sprung into fast-paced explanation:

\- We’ve been through so much to be together and you said I’ll like it and I did and if I get heavy now you won’t touch me and I’ll miss you and you’ll get bored of me and find somebody else and…

She would’ve said more ridiculous things but Fergus stopped her with sudden kiss. When he leaned away, Marsali was very surprised by his passionate reaction – but mercifully silent. Fergus touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes in anticipation of her answer to the question he dreaded to ask. But asked anyway:

\- So, not never? You don’t want my child just… for now?

Marsali bumped his head and almost screamed at him:

\- Of course, not never, you stupid French! But I don’t want to come back to my mother for her to meet my husband and her grandchild at the same time! And God knows how long we’ll travel still to find Young Ian and what troubles Daddy would get you into! And then…

Marsali’s voice cracked and turned from angry to lost:

\- I know how it goes when a wife gets up with a bairn. I’ve seen it when Mom was heavy with Joan. I understand, men need this… and I’ll be all fat and ugly…

Marsali waved in circle encompassing a space between them. Fergus caught her hand and put it behind her back, aligning their bodies to one another. His cock twitched at the proximity of her intoxicating body but Fergus didn’t let it to sway him off the moment.

He spoke in harsh tone:

\- Marsali, you have to stop doing this. You can’t be ugly bearing my child – you can be only more beautiful for it. But you can be fat or thin, tall or short – I wouldn’t care because this is not why I love you. I may be French, I may be a moron, but I’m not as shallow as you make me out to be. You haven’t married any other men – then why do you keep comparing me to them? To your mother’s husbands too?

\- But… you need this. You said it yourself, you were going crazy before tonight. And with a bairn it would be longer…

Fergus was getting really desperate! How could she possibly misunderstand everything he said about his desire for her?

\- Why can’t you just hear me, woman? I’m not crazy for THIS, I’m crazy for YOU! I haven’t broken my vows to you while we were courting, why would I do it when we’re married before God?

\- So… you say we have to have a bairn now?

Marsali’s voice sounded defeated as she was preparing to let go of her honeymoon bliss dreams. But Fergus surprised her once again:

\- No, I don’t want a child now…

\- But you’d just said…

\- Marsali, I want what you want. And when you are ready to have a child, we’ll have it. Not just because I want one.

Marsali giggled in relief:

\- One? I want seven!

Fergus groaned:

\- Mon femme, you’ll be the death of me!

Marsali’s voice became playful and flirty again:

\- Well, then I’d better make sure you die a happy man, mari!


End file.
